


All Part of Growing Up

by imoldgreg



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Blood, Bullying, Crime, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Good Mother Grace Hargreeves, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Incest - Only Between Luther and Allison, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Klaus Hargreeves Whump, Mentions of Underage But No Actual Underage or Non Con, Sibling Bonding, The Prime8s, Underage Drinking/Drug Use, accidental injury, cross dressing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:42:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27602948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imoldgreg/pseuds/imoldgreg
Summary: A series of non-chronological shorts (mostly about Klaus) about what growing up in the Umbrella Academy was like from ages 3 to 18. Hint - not good.
Relationships: Allison Hargreeves/Luther Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves & Everyone
Kudos: 36





	1. The Bath

**Author's Note:**

> So I just have a bunch of head cannons about these trainwrecks’ childhoods and I needed to get them down on paper. Some are kinda dark, some are kinda fluffy, and of course Reggie is an asshole :)

Luther had once pushed Klaus' head under the water in the bath, when they were still too little to bathe on their own. He hadn’t known his own strength, and whenever he'd had contests with Diego to see who could hold their breath the longest it had always been fun.

It had been when Mom had gone out for just a second to get a clean towel for the two of them, Diego, Ben, Allison and Five already bathed. The four of them huddled together clutching scratchy white towels around their trembling shoulders, teeth chattering. The air outside the bath was cold – the academy was difficult to heat even in summer, but in the winter depths of December you could see your breath in the air.

Diego and Allison had been perched on the closed toilet lid, feet dangling. Ben and Five were balancing on tiptoes to try and draw funny faces in the steam on the mirror.

Vanya had been bathed and put to bed an hour earlier, as usual.

Klaus still had little bubbles of shampoo in his curls, and had been excited to finally be included in the breath-holding-game. He was always excluded from games that his brothers played, a bit like Allison and Vanya were, except Allison usually forced her way in anyway. It would take Klaus a few years to really hone his skill of wearing his family down until they finally let him participate.

“You first. I'll count,” Luther ordered, and Klaus had nodded enthusiastically and held his nose, sinking himself beneath the water.

Luther began to count, but had barely got to ten when Klaus reemerged, rubbing his eyes to clear them of water.

“How was that?” he beamed, sounding out of breath.

“That wasn't a proper go, Four. Don’t be a baby,” Luther frowned, and Klaus frowned back indignantly, before holding his nose again and disappearing under the water, making sure to splash Luther on the way down.

This time Luther pushed his hand down on Klaus' head to keep him under, and when Klaus started to thrash he thought his brother was being stupid and trying to ruin the game, so he held him down harder.

When Mom had come back in she'd screamed.

Dad had been furious with Luther, even though he was too young to understand why Klaus had gone limp and unresponsive when he’d finally let go of his hair.

He'd smacked Luther’s palms with his cane, and shouted at the others for not stepping in. Everyone had been snotty and whimpering tearfully that night, and Mom had to read everyone a story twice before they calmed down enough to sleep.

Klaus was fine. He always was – somehow. A little shaken, tearful as ever, lips a startling shade of blue; but alive.

Sensitive. That's the word Mom had used.

“Klaus is sensitive, Luther. He's not like you or your brothers,” she'd chided gently as he'd sulked on the Bad Chair in the kitchen the following morning, pushed into a corner facing the wall. He kicked the brick methodically, chipping away paint and concrete until there was almost a hole right through to the other room.

'Klaus is different,’ is all he heard.


	2. Bad Word Numero Uno

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for homophobic language. They’re about 12/13 here.

Once Diego called Klaus a fag without really knowing what it meant. He'd heard some people on the street say it to Klaus before when they'd started sneaking out to spend their allowance. He thought it meant weirdo, or maybe loser.

Klaus had been wearing Vanya's skirt with knee high socks, which had become a normal sight at the Academy, and he'd just stuck two fingers up at the group of people and stuck his tongue out. 

But Luther didn't miss the way he'd pulled self consciously at the hem of the skirt when they were a few blocks away, his attention scattered as he struggled to stay focused on their conversation.

He'd held Allison’s hand the rest of the trip out, even though Luther had pushed him over onto the pavement when he'd seen their hands entwined, an ugly feeling of jealousy twisting his stomach.

Klaus had scraped his knees and palms up pretty bad because of that fall, and he'd glared daggers at Luther.

“What the fuck?” he'd spat, and the harsh language shocked Luther into silence. Klaus had been the first one of them to use swear words, and he'd taught all of them the ridiculous sounding forbidden language. None of them were really used to using them in day to day conversation without sounding forced yet, except Five, who loved the versatility of the word “shit” especially.

Luther didn’t want to say he only wanted Allison to hold his hand, no one else's, because everyone else was glaring at him too. As if they all hadn’t been taught that violence was a good way to communicate their feelings too.

“What's wrong with you?” Allison frowned, and helped Klaus up off the floor, brushing the grit from his bloody hands.

Luther had felt stupid after that.

So when Diego called Klaus a fag, it hadn’t seemed particularly bad. It was just another swear word, right?

But Mom had heard. She'd made Diego apologise to Klaus straight away, Two looking between the two of them with a confused expression.

“Do you know what that word means, Diego?” Mom had asked him quietly that night while she tucked him up in bed, their new names still unfamiliar and exciting to hear.

Diego shook his head minutely, and Mom brushed the hair from his forehead gently. He could hear her internal processors buzzing as she decided how to word her explanation.

“It’s a cruel word that people use when they don’t understand someone,” she settled on, methodically stroking his hair, the soft orange glow from the bedside lamp making everything warm and cosy.

“Why do people say it to Klaus?” Diego had whispered, feeling a sting of guilt in his stomach. If Mom thought it was bad he'd never ever say it again.

Mom paused, and perched on the edge of his bed. She stopped stroking his hair and placed her hands in her lap. Her processors buzzed again.

“Klaus isn't like you or your brothers,” she quietly explained. “People don't like things that are different, so they call them names like that.”

That word was never spoken under the Academy roof again.


	3. Dress Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The founding of the Prime-8s and Klaus breaking his jaw happen at the same time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small warning for a tiny mention of Klaus’ jaw at the end - nothing graphic but it’s not exactly nice. Also I realise I’m accidentally making Luther and Five assholes but they’re teenage boys who have been shaped by toxic masculinity, what can you expect? 
> 
> They’re 12/13 here.

Before Klaus and Allison had cigarettes and tween magazines to bond over, they had dress up. Dress up was Klaus' favourite game because he didn't have to have his brother's breathing down his neck about how bad he was at football, or cricket, or any of the other stupid sports they played out in the courtyard. He didn’t have to worry about getting shoved about, or having the ball kicked in his face, or having everyone tell him to just “fuck off if he wasn’t gonna play properly.”

He and Allison had played dress up for years ever since they were tiny. Allison's power meant prohibited items such as Mom's old makeup and hand-me-down clothes went unnoticed, and the two of them loved to flounce around in dresses three sizes too big, cinched at their skinny waists with belts that they’d cut extra holes into, too-long stockings wrinkled up around their ankles.

Even Vanya sometimes joined in if she wasn’t stuck in the music room. She never usually wore much more than a floppy hat and a pair of wonky sunglasses, often sitting on the bed quietly instead of performing cat walks and dramatic made up scenarios of scandalized princesses and famous actresses, but it was nice for her to be there.

“You look stupid,” Diego griped from his moody slouch against the doorway. Luther and Five were training, and Ben was sick again from the Horror and had been confined to his bedroom all day.

Allison was straddling Klaus' lap at her vanity, carefully smearing blue glittery shadow over his eyelids, her own bright pink lids barely giving Diego a second glance.

“Why don’t you join in? None of your stupid macho man friends are around,” Klaus suggested, pouting while Allison loaded up his lips with pink sparkly lip gloss.

“Boys don’t do this shit,” Diego scowled, folding his arms. Then he caught Klaus' eye, and blushed, back tracking hastily.

“I-i-i-I m-mean real m-m-men don’t wear makeup.”

“What about David Bowie?” Vanya supplied from the bed, neon pink feather bower draped around her neck.

Diego blinked at her, caught off guard.

“Well.. he-“

“Or Gene Simmons?” Allison piped up, standing up and putting her hands in her hips, completely dwarfing Diego in Mom's borrowed heels.

He gulped, and Klaus grinned, scooting over on the vanity stool and patting the pastel pink cushion invitingly.

“O-ok, but make me look cool like them. None of this,” he gestured to Klaus in general, and Klaus feigned offense, pressing his hand against the baggy chest of the dress, his own nipples visible over the top of it as the dress' green beaded straps sagged down his skinny shoulders.

Klaus took one thigh, Allison sat on the other, and together they worked on Diego's face with lots of white powder and black eyeliner. It felt quiet nice, even if it was weird to feel his skin so heavy and cakey, and when Klaus started rubbing gel in his hair he started getting bitchy.

But when they pulled away and let him turn around to see himself in the mirror, he couldn’t deny he felt.. really fucking cool.

His skin was pale, with a black zig zag across his face like a goth Ziggy Stardust, and even the silver glitter and red shadow Klaus had added under his eyes to make them look sunken looked awesome. His hair was spiked up into mini liberty spikes, and his lips were dark red with a trail of 'blood' down one side of his mouth.

“I look like I’m in a band,” he whispered, his hand hovering over his face although he was afraid to touch incase he ruined it.

“You are,” Allison said simply, practically glowing with pride at Diego's reaction. “You’re the lead guitarist of the most famous punk band in the world, the..”

“The Prime-8s!” Klaus shouted, almost vibrating with excitement. Volume control had never been any of their strong points.

“Like Pogo?” Allison snorted, and Klaus giggled manically.

“Can you do my makeup like that?” a tiny voice cut through the laughter from behind Klaus and Allison, and everyone’s eyes fixed on Vanya. She shifted uncomfortably under so much surprised attention, but she smiled hopefully, anxiously playing with the hat in her hands.

“Of fucking course!” Klaus squealed, practically shoving Diego off the stool and dragging Vanya over.

Soon enough Vanya had her hair gelled into a haphazard mohawk, dark rings around her eyes and black lips, little tiny crosses and hearts under her eyes drawn in liquid eyeliner.

They made up a story in Allison’s room, Diego and Vanya were the Prime-8s doing an extra special backstage meet and greet, and Klaus and Allison were two beautiful fangirls who'd got VIP tickets. Beautiful was a strong word for the state those two really looked, but Diego found himself easily getting caught up in the game, and even went and grabbed his guitar from his room, and Vanya went a got her violin so they could perform for their gushing 'audience'.

Diego and Vanya started joining in every time Klaus and Allison went to go play dress up.

Unbeknownst the Luther or Five obviously – Diego didn’t need anymore teasing from them. He got enough shit for his stutter. Ben didn’t care, he was used to Klaus making him be a model for his make up practice, and as long as he could sit quietly and read his book he didn’t care what his siblings got up to in their spare time.

There had been a couple of close calls with Luther and Five though, like when Klaus had grabbed Diego's hand to tug him upstairs, interrupting brothers' game of poker, and said “Come play dress up, Mom gave Ally these new body glitter sprays and hair chalk! I'm being orange like Ziggy, but you can be red like your lightning bolt if you want?”

“Why the fuck would Diego wanna play a girl's game like that?” Luther scoffed, rolling his eyes as he looked perplexed at his cards, scratching his head.

“What lightning bolt? Have you been letting the girls dress you up Diego?” Five frowned at them, a confused smirk playing on his lips, promising immediate bullying if Diego didn’t find a way out of this fast.

“What? N-no! Klaus is possessed again, aren’t you Klaus?” Diego had said loudly, fixing Klaus with a glare he hoped was a warning of immediate pain if he didn’t shut the fuck up right now.

Klaus had looked a little hurt, but played it off with some loopy spiel about the Victorian Era, trying to fake possession as he half staggered off back upstairs.

Diego had joined half an hour later when his brothers went for training again, and minutes later they were painted up and performing live to an audience of ten thousand.

One time Klaus suggested they do a show at the top of the stairs on the walkway that overlooked the living room, and that he and Allison would stand on the ground floor, and it would be like a real show.

Knowing that Dad, Luther and Five were gonna be occupied for at least more two hours in training, Diego and Vanya agreed.

Klaus and Allison clopped unsteadily in Mom's heals down the corridor to the staircase, the heavy steps loud on the old wood of the Academy flooring, skirts swooshing round their feet and multiple necklaces draped around their necks clacking.

Diego and Vanya had turned to go on the walkway overlooking the living room, just as planned, clutching their instruments excitedly, when suddenly there was a shriek. A series of loud, jumbled thuds that sounded like a sack of potatoes falling down the stairs echoed round the house. Then silence.

And then Allison screamed.

They had to stand in front of their father’s desk all dolled up and explain exactly why they were stumbling round the house dressed like embarrassments, and exactly how Klaus had fallen down the stairs and smashed his jaw to pieces.

Luther and Five gaped at Diego and Vanya as they all hovered by the basement door, waiting for Klaus. Dad hadn’t let them get changed or wash their faces or hair. Their makeup had been ruined by their tears and snot and drool. Vanya had gotten off with a disgusted expression and a cruel dismissal, but Diego had been bent over Dad's desk and caned five times. The backs of his thighs burnt angrily as he stood trembling by the door. He glared at his shoes, the floor swimming as hot tears prickled his eyes, refusing to look at his brothers, his face hot with shame.

Klaus' jaw was wired shut. Allison's room was raided for all of Mom's old makeup and clothing. Diego's guitar was confiscated.

They never played dress up again.


	4. Mommy’s Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Growing up cut off from the world leads to awkward realisations that Diego regrets realising.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for discussion of incest but there’s no actual incest - Diego is emotionally stunted and naive (as are they all) and gets confused as to how he should see their mom, and then quickly realises his mistake. Also they get the Talk in this chapter.

Diego was a mommy's boy.

He'd always been ever since they were little. Constantly hanging onto her hand or skirts, always easy to cry because her programming would buzz at the sound of it and she'd be quick to pick him up and cuddle him on her lap or close to her chest. Diego would never show any of his siblings anything interesting he'd found in the garden, or something he'd spent a particularly long time drawing, but instead he'd rush over to Mom and hold it up for her to see, eyes wide and anxious for her approval.

While Luther had resented Mom because she wasn’t dad, and Allison grew distant as she aged through her teens and realised that her mother was not a real woman, and she couldn’t understand her own daughter. While Klaus and Five didn’t bother with her unless they were injured, aloof due to her inability to feel empathy but happy to accept the care she was programmed to give, and Ben and Vanya quietly appreciated her but never felt any need to show it.

Diego loved her. To him she was a goddess, the ideal woman – she was beautiful, and strong, and forever perfect. She didn’t age, she never looked bad, and she was so, so kind and gentle.

As he got a little older and could be trusted to help out in the kitchen with her, he was constantly glued to her side. He helped her cook, and clean, and sort through laundry, even though he didn’t particularly like those chores. It was worth it to see Mom's smile, to hear her tell him what a good job he'd done.

Dad didn’t like Diego helping Mom with the cores. He'd built her for the very purpose of dealing with those tasks so his soldiers could focus on training, growing big and strong and deadly, not homely. Not to idolize a housewife.

At first he'd tried to beat it out of the boy, but that only instilled in Diego the clear difference between Mom and Dad. Dad brought pain, and competitive aggression, and constant disappointment no matter what he and his siblings did. They were never good enough.

But with Mom? Diego was perfect.

“You’re such a big strong boy lifting those boxes for me, Diego,” Mom said when Diego was helping her clear out Dad's old papers. He knew she had enough strength to lift ten times the amount of boxes he was struggling to carry, but his chest swelled with pride anyway.

“My clever little boy,” she'd hummed with that smile that made Diego practically glow when he'd finally got the answer to a particularly tricky maths question Pogo had set for Monday's homework.

“You look very handsome darling, just like a big boy!” Mom had said as she'd admired him in his first proper suit. Dad had forced them all to be fitted for fancy clothes when they hit eleven as they began to become flooded with invites for private appearances with his billionaire associates.

But it was barely six months after this on their twelfth birthday that Diego realised his admiration for Mom wasn’t shared by the others.

Of course he knew he was Mom's favorite, they all did, but he'd just assumed they loved her as much as he did.

Diego was wrong. Very wrong.

Growing up with no outside contact besides the rare occasion they snuck out and the decades old black and white films that Mom had on video tape left him confused as to how he should feel. This confusion became a problem.

“Do you think Mom's hot?” Diego had asked Klaus as they helped wash up after their birthday dinner. Although Dad explicitly forbid any celebrations ( if anything training was far more intense on their birthday than any other day), Mom always made them an extra special meal of all their combined favorite dishes.

Klaus paused, the bubbles frothing up around his elbows stilling as he ceased his scrubbing at a particularly messy plate (his own). Then he frowned a little, and gave Diego a sidelong glance.

“No, not really. Why? Do you?”

Diego blinked, a little shocked. He'd asked Klaus because he thought it was just common knowledge. If he didn’t think Mom was hot.. did anyone else? Was he weird for thinking that? Had he got it wrong? What if hot meant something completely different to what Diego thought it meant?

“Well, you’re gay, you wouldn’t find her hot would you?” Diego glared back at him, face burning. He elbowed Klaus in the ribs for good measure as that ugly feeling of embarrassment crept up his stomach.

“Diego you totally have a crush on Mom!” Klaus grinned that stupid shit eating grin, eyes sparkling. He splashed Diego with the water and laughed. Actually laughed. “Diego and MoOOom sittin in a tree, K-I-S-S- ow!”

“No I don’t!” Diego cut him off, thumping him hard in the chest with a soapy fist.

They'd had a fight, an almost daily occurrence in the Academy, and Dad had stormed into the room, cane in hand. Scuffles within the team were not productive to his little army's crime fighting future.

Diego didn’t try to ask anyone else if they thought Mom was hot, and after a few weeks of teasing Klaus grew bored and forgot about it.

They got the Talk from Pogo in a biology lesson when they were fourteen. They were gonna start growing hair where hair had never been before, they were gonna start smelling different, they were gonna get angry and sad and confused for seemingly no reason.

Then Allison and Vanya got taken out separately with Mom.

Pogo told them that their bodies would change. Klaus couldn’t stop giggling after hearing Pogo say the word masturbation, and Diego had never seen Luther look so uncomfortable, his eyes glued to his desk, face bright red. Diego decided he could live quite happily without ever hearing Pogo describe an erection ever again.

It came a little late, admittedly. Klaus had already figured out what felt good, and had been divulging his siblings eagerly during their night time meet ups.

They'd all listened raptly, both equal parts disgusted at what their brother told them and fascinated by how good it sounded.

It was still too fresh for them to gossip about at that point, but by the time they were sixteen they were meeting in Klaus' bedroom almost every night. They usually played truth or dare, or snuck out to Griddys if they were feeling especially daring. Klaus' room was chosen because Klaus had recently discovered weed, and no one wanted their room stunk up by the joints Klaus liked to smoke while they talked. And Allison could light up one of her stolen cigarettes without worry that Dad would smell it in her room.

It was one such night when they’d all camped out on Klaus' floor, with Klaus and Allison smoking on his bed painting each other’s nails while they talked, and Luther, Ben and Diego sat cross legged on the floor, blankets dragged from their own beds wrapped around their shoulders, because Klaus always kept the window open.

“I bet Luther thinks about Dad,” Klaus teased, everyone giggling as Luther's face turned bright red, his eyebrows knitting together in frustration.

“No I do not! You’re such a freak Klaus,” he huffed, wrapping his blue blanket tighter around himself.

“You totally do! I swear I’ve seen you pop a stiffy when Dad gave you that pat on the back after training the other day!” Klaus was snorting with giggles, pointing an accusatory pink and glittery painted foot at Number One's crotch, to which Luther smacked it away hard. Klaus yelped, and opened his mouth to say something.

“Then what do you think about?” Allison interjected, a perfect brow quirking upwards as she fixed Luther with a smirk. They'd already heard all about the 'cute' drug dealer Klaus has been jerking off to for the past week because he'd given him free weed in exchange for a blowjob, and Ben had admitted to fantasizing about one of the waitresses in Griddy's that always winked at him.

It should’ve been 'boy talk' but Allison had inserted herself so fully into their group that she seemed no different to any of them. Besides, Klaus was hardly what anyone would consider a boy, in Diego and Luther's opinion anyway.

Luther froze at the question, his face going an even brighter shade of red. Even under the dull glow of Klaus' fairy lights draped across the ceiling, the amount of blood flooding Luther's cheeks could be considering worrying.

“I.. I don’t.. it's no one you’d know,” he hastily spluttered, and Diego exchanged a Look with Klaus before they all fell into a fit of laughter, ignoring Luther's embarrassed protests.

They all know it’s Allison.

“What about Diego? Diego hasn’t said shit!” Luther desperately attempted to distract his siblings, pointing at Diego and looking around at them all. “I bet Diego thinks about.. I don’t know.. Mom or something!”

Diego's smirk dropped. He froze, exactly how Luther had done. Of course he didn’t think about her like that. He'd long since figured out what he found hot, and Mom wasn’t it, but that day in the kitchen with Klaus still haunted him as he lay awake at night, unable to sleep from embarrassment, cringing at himself.

Everyone kept giggling, turning their attention to him vaguely, but Allison had caught on to the slight widening of her brother's eyes, and the way he quickly looked around at them all to see if anyone had heard.

Diego panicked as she opened her mouth.

“No way, he does!” she laughed, and Klaus perked up immediately, fixing him with an incredulous look.

“Do you actually?” Ben asked, frowning with confusion. Even Luther looked dumbfounded, astounded his wild accusation actually had truth to it.

“No I fucking don’t!” Diego snapped, his face feeling hot. This wasn’t fair, he loved Mom, he respected her. He wasn’t like Luther, family members were off limits.

Everyone was staring at him, shocked half smiles on their faces as they prepared an onslaught of relentless teasing.

“I don’t think about Mom when I jerk off! I’m not a fucking freak!” Diego was aware his voice was getting louder and louder, and suddenly there were angry tears in his eyes that he was struggling to blink away.

“Diego shut up Dad's gonna-“ Ben hissed, attempting to distract him, but Klaus was trying (and failing) to hide his laughter behind his hands and Allison was struggling not burst out laughing as she watched him. Luther was grinning stupidly, just happy to have got the attention onto someone other than himself.

“Is that why you’re always offering to help her out with the housework?” Allison couldn’t hide the wobble of laughter in her voice.

“Is that why you always used to say you wanted to marry her when we were little?” Klaus didn’t even try to stop laughing, hardly getting his words out as he turned his back on them and wrapped his arms around himself, rubbing his back with his hands in a crude imitation of making out with someone. Even Ben snorted at that.

“Mmm Mom you’re so hot!” Klaus fake moaned, everyone laughing uncontrollably as Diego sank further and further into a vicious sulk.

Diego punched Klaus in the face that night, and broke his nose. It ruined the nightly meet ups they had for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also Ben and Five might disappear and then reappear in some chapters as they’re not chronological and jump between times when they were alive/not missing to when they left/died


	5. Car Chase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Klaus has older friends who he sneaks out to hang around with every night when he’s still too young to go to clubs. He doesn’t realise this friendship is a one-way thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Klaus is 15/16 here and in way over his head.
> 
> Warnings for drug use, mention of blood and creepy behaviour from the older guys.

Being smug is a hard thing to be at the Umbrella Academy. Mainly because there’s never anything to be smug about.

Special training? Not as special as it sounds. 

Extra serving at dinner? Stress is a killer for losing weight.

Even being given permission to speak during an interview - something you’d think would be exciting for a bunch of attention starved teenagers: a chance to really show off in front of an audience, soak up some forbidden compliments. 

Nope. One slip up and you won’t be sitting down for a week.

But right now Klaus was smug. Smug As Shit.

Because Klaus had something no one else in the Academy had.

Klaus had friends.

“So I just suck it?” Allison blinked at him, holding the lit cigarette between her thumb and forefinger a little gingerly.

“Just suck for a couple seconds, then breathe in again, then out,” Klaus explained, taking an overly long drag of his own cigarette, pretending the bitter taste of burnt rubber in the back of his mouth was delicious, as if it wasn’t making his head swim and the ends of his fingers tingle unpleasantly.

Allison watched him with badly concealed awe, taking her own first clumsy drag. She coughed and spluttered and stuck her tongue out, the smoke billowing out of her mouth in short puffs.

“You don’t like it?” he couldn’t help but smirk. Finally he could do things the others couldn’t. Klaus felt Cool. He was like a real person. An adult.

“No, it’s not that it’s just ... harsh,” Allison croaked, rubbing her throat self consciously and quickly taking another drag, taking this one a little better. The disgust was still clear on her face.

“Well these are from Poland or some shit. They smoke real cigarettes over there,” Klaus leant back against the window ledge, acting as if he knew what he was talking about, and wasn’t just quoting what his friend had told him a week ago when he’d smoked his own very first cigarette.

“Jack gets multipacks from there for cheap, he gave me a couple for free,” he took another long drag while grinning at his sister, trying to ignore the cough that was threatening to ruin his subtle brag.

“Do you think Jack could get me a pack?” Allison asked, taking another drag, this one a lot smoother. She giggled, and looked around a little anxiously. No one would disturb them - the attic remained unexplored territory for the rest of their siblings. 

“God I feel like a movie star,” she whispered to him, her smile bright and eyes glittering with excitement. 

“Sure, I can ask Jack for you. He’d give me more no problem,” Klaus grinned, sharing Allison’s bubbling giddiness. Finally he could share something with his sister. Something only they knew about. Something she would rely on him for.

Turns out Jack wasn’t too happy about Klaus asking for two packets of cigarettes the next night they met up. Klaus was slumped in the front seat, a cider can half filled with vodka clutched in his hand. There were three other guys in the back seats; Klaus didn’t know who they were.

“I only give you free packs ‘cuz you’re chill Klaus. What if your sister gets caught? I bet your old man wouldn’t like it if he found out where she got them from - he’d get us put away for a long fuckin’ time,” Jack frowned, shouting over the shitty dubstep tape that rattled the car’s even shittier speakers. 

“She won’t. Come on, you don’t wanna make me sad do you?” Klaus pouted when Jack turned to him. He felt sexy in the kids size t shirt he’d stolen and the skinny jeans he’d snuck into the Academy with Allison, though he could barely feel his face. He hoped his eyeliner hadn’t smudged too badly.

“Fine. You owe me though Klausy.”

It seemed Jack agreed, because his hand found Klaus’ thigh and he dragged it over his own, indicating for Klaus to slide onto his lap.

“You drive,” he muttered in Klaus’ ear as his hands settled on Klaus’ hips, squeezing.

Jack’s feet remained on the peddles, but Klaus held the steering wheel.

It was a pretty deserted highway, and just as well, because the street lights were flashing by so fast they looked like one long yellow and white blur.

The guys in the back were shouting random shit out the windows, the car steadily filling with a bad smelling smoke as one of them sucked on a weird looking pipe.

The music was deafening. Klaus could feel the thrum of it in his bones. His skin felt like it was buzzing where Jack’s hands squeezed him, and he couldn’t stop laughing.

Of course it always had to end. Jack always had to drop Klaus off at the top of the street the Academy was on. It was a long walk, and the air was cold and still as the sun was just starting to rise. 

Klaus would climb up the fire escape and shimmy inside his window that would be left ajar from when he’d exited earlier that night. He’d collapse into bed, maybe get a couple hours sleep if he was lucky.

If he was unlucky, the drink or drug still in his system would make the room spin uncontrollably and he’d have to focus on trying not to be sick or letting his head literally split open rather than sleeping.

But then the next night it would happen all over again. Klaus would go to bed, and an hour later Jack’s car would be at the top of the alley where the fire escape ended.

“I don’t think it’s working. I don’t feel anything,” Diego huffed, sat cross legged on Klaus’ bed with Allison.

“It will, just give it an hour. You’re gonna love it,” Klaus purred, stretching out on his bed on his stomach as he dug under his pillow for a magazine they could read while they waited for the pills to kick in.

Diego rolled his eyes and went over to flick through Klaus’ tape deck to see what music to play next. Allison continued braiding her hair, trying to act as if she wasn’t bored and knew what they were waiting for.

Klaus was excited. Just the other night Jack had taken him to a flat party-turned-rave, the apartment completely packed with sweaty, writhing bodies and thrumming bass.

He’d pressed a blue diamond pill that tasted like shit into Klaus’ mouth, and barely half an hour later Klaus had been thrown into the Best Fucking Feeling of his Life.

He wanted to share it with the two siblings he knew wanted in on this new world that Klaus had access to.

Not only did he and Allison now have regular secret smoke breaks throughout the day in the attic, but Diego had also joined them for their secret drinking parties in Klaus’ room. Every couple of nights when Klaus wasn’t with Jack and his friends the three of them would gather in his room, put on a mixtape and drink the spare spirits Klaus had saved from his nightly adventures. 

Now Klaus actually had the respect of two of his siblings, even if Diego swore them both to secrecy about it. If Luther ever found out that would be it for all of them, but especially Diego’s pride.

They’d asked to try drugs, so Klaus had persuaded Jack to give him three more of those pills. All he had to do in return was take a few pictures of himself in skimpy outfits and give them to him. No big deal. It’s not like you could see anything scandalous anyway.

An hour or two passed, and the three of them were spooning on Klaus’ bed, Klaus all cosy in the middle, Diego clinging to his back like a sweaty koala, and Allison plastered to his front.

The music in the background was scratching the itch in their brains just right.

“I love you guys,” Diego admitted out the blue. He sat up, and held both their hands tightly in his.

Klaus beamed, a flood of overwhelming love for his siblings washing over him. He linked fingers with Diego, and then held Allison’s hand as well so they were all connected.

It felt important to be connected right now.

“No I really, really love you guys. Like I love you guys so much,” Diego’s eyes were wide, his dark iris’ completely consumed by his pupils. He stared at them intensely, while Klaus stared back with lidded eyes, dopey grin stretching his features. Allison had her eyes closed with her head on Klaus’ chest and her legs wrapped tightly around his middle, happily squeezing both their hands and humming softly.

“We should do this all the time. I don’t ever wanna stop feeling like this. Why doesn’t everyone take pills? If everyone felt like this all the time there’d be no wars,” Diego rambled on, sat up crosslegged. He seemed to realise he’d let go of his siblings’ hands, and quickly rejoined the cuddle, rubbing his cheek against Klaus’ hair.

“You’re so cool Klaus. We give you a hard time, but it’s only because we wish we had friends like you.”

So yeah, Klaus was pretty fucking smug. 

Even Luther and Five noticed it, the air of self satisfaction that Klaus now had. They took it out on him in training, and cornered him in his room trying to find out why he was so happy all of a sudden, their jealousy turning them bitter.

They knew about Klaus’ older friends. Everyone knew about them. Everyone also knew about the drinking, and the drugs, and the sneaking out. But as long as none of the ‘important’ members of the Academy were dragged into Klaus’ mess, Dad didn’t acknowledge it. 

So Klaus didn’t utter a peep about Diego and Allison’s involvement in it. 

The other two didn’t much like drugs anyway. The pills had been fun, but embarrassing in the morning when they all woke up tangled together when there was an unspoken rule of No Touching in the Academy. Also Diego had chewed up his cheeks pretty bad, his face swelled up.

Klaus thought it was pretty funny, but Allison was moody for a few days after as well, so he didn’t bring pills back to the house again.

They smoked weed together instead. That was fun, and without any negative side effects.

And Klaus could get extra weed from Jack a lot easier than harder stuff. 

The price he had to pay was higher now. Jack wanted pictures of Klaus in girls’ underwear, and wanted to pull his skirt up in front of his friends, and kiss him with tongue.

It made Klaus’ skin crawl in a way he wasn’t sure how to recognise.

But weed was freely given, as long as Klaus dropped off for Jack and his friends.

Klaus didn’t mind doing drop offs. He felt Cool. He felt grown up, and edgy for doing something he knew Dad would kill him for.

One of Jack’s friends was a dealer, and because Jack owned a car he paid him to deliver coke to his customers.

There were huge blocks of coke in the boot, and neatly packaged baggies in the glovebox. All Klaus had to do was grab the bag from the guy sat in the passenger seat and hop out the car.

Sometimes he had to walk down an alley to meet the buyer, or sometimes he’d have to go into someone’s house. He liked that the best, because it was getting cold and although fishnets made him feel sexy and got him compliments from the guys in Jack’s car, they certainly didn’t do anything to help keep him warm. 

The people who’s houses he went into were nice. They’d give him a free sniff or two if he giggled enough and gave them a hug or a kiss on the cheek when they asked for one.

Some of them became regulars, and Klaus considered them friends.

He gradually opened up to the idea of kissing with tongue. He didn’t much like it when Jack or his friends or some of the buyers would literally lick into his mouth, or bite his lip so hard he squeaked, but Klaus realised if he let them then he’d get things in return.

Compliments, free beer or blunts or keys, sometimes wads of cash. Once he made up to fifty dollars in one night.

Jack would buy him McDonald’s drive through, or take him to more house parties. 

It was worth it. Even when hands went places Klaus would rather they didn’t, or when guys grabbed his hand and tried to push it down the front of their jeans, but he could always wriggle out of it. 

Klaus could take care of himself, thank you very much.

So things were good. He was getting all the drugs he wanted, going to parties, meeting loads of people who all seemed to love him. Driving round really fast round deserted streets in the early hours of the morning, music blasting, hotboxing the car - it was fucking amazing!

Klaus was having real fun, living like a real teenager should. He was hanging around with twenty plus year olds, he basically was twenty at this point. 

For once he was better than his siblings. He was doing better. He was better. He was having fun, being carefree and doing crazy shit, and they weren’t.

Sure he was exhausted during the day, and as a result his grades were dropping even worse than they were before, and as for training he was even being beaten by Ben every time without fail (and Ben was a complete pacifist for gods sake.) It was worth it for how good he felt when he was with his friends.

‘Friends.’ Klaus realised the quotation marks far too late.

He was dropping off, nothing out the usual. It was a new customer who wanted to meet down an alley.

Jack pulled up at the top of it and Klaus jumped out with the baggy in his hand.

He felt cute. He was already coked up to shit and Jack was rolling a blunt for when he got back in the car. He was wearing a mini skirt and black stockings that he’d stolen from Mom, and had one of Jack’s friends’ hoodies on.

“Hey big guy, Tom right?” Klaus grinned at the guy leaning up against the wall, hood pulled up over his face.

Poor guy must’ve been a newbie, he kept looking around and only jerked his head at Klaus as a reply, as if he was trying to be nonchalant.

“Here’s your gram,” Klaus held the baggy up and shook it, waiting for the guy to get the money out.

He reached into his pocket for the money, but then as Klaus took it and handed over the baggy in the same movement, the guy grabbed his wrist. Hard.

“Hey what the fuck?” Klaus hissed, tugging his wrist hard but then the guy grabbed the other, pushing Klaus hard against the wall.

“It’s all there!” Klaus blurted hurriedly, panic starting to rise.

“You’re under arrest, you little shit. Where did you get this?” the guy growled, his hood falling away from his face as he pinned Klaus’ wrists to his chest with one hand and unzipped his own hoodie with the other. He pulled out a police badge, and Klaus felt his heart sink.

“No no no no no,” he begged, shaking his head and he started to struggle, tugging his wrists hard.

He felt his blood run cold, his heart beating loud in his ears, so loud he could barely hear the cop shouting at him to remain still and Tell Him Who The Fuck Is His Supplier.

Klaus couldn’t get arrested. They’d call Dad. Dad would punish him. Dad wouldn’t let him see his friends anymore. All Klaus’ freedom, all his fun, everything he’d lorded over his siblings for months would be gone. 

He’d end up in the mausoleum for weeks. Dad would cane him so bad he’d pass out. His siblings wouldn’t talk to him, he’d be forced to miss supper, he’d-

With pure panic flooding his system, Klaus kicked the cop hard between the legs. Thank you Doctor Marten, because the cop crumpled for a few seconds, enough for Klaus to yank his hands away and run.

He didn’t know where the fuck he was going to go. Jack had gone. The car had fucking gone.

Klaus ran. He ran faster than he’d ever run in training. He could hear the cop’s heavy footsteps behind him as his blood pounded in his ears, panic threatening to rise up in his throat.

He couldn’t stop he couldn’t stop he couldn’t stop.

He skidded round a corner and dodged down different streets. He didn’t recognise anything, but now other cops had joined the chase, and a car flashing blue suddenly pulled up on the road opposite.

Klaus turned a corner and ran blindly down another alley. It was a dead end, but the fence at the end of it wasn’t too high.

With unexpected agility Klaus practically vaulted over it and fell hard on his knees and right wrist into a bush on the other side. He scrambled to his feet, not even processing the screaming pain in his wrist or the burning wet tingling on his bare knees.

Whoever’s garden this was would be pretty mad, but Klaus vaulted over the other fence and then dived down another alley on the side of a house, hurriedly scrambling over a gate to stumble into a cul-de-sac.

There was shouts for him to stop, he could hear a siren barely a street away, and he heard the scuffle of someone’s feet as they too launched themselves into the garden he was just in.

Klaus sprinted back out to the main road, his throat painfully dry, his heart feeling like it was going to rip right out of his chest.

If it wasn’t for the coke in his system he would’ve collapsed, his energy seemingly endless, but his coordination was off, and he tripped over his own boots.

He smacked against the pavement with a pained cry, barely saving his head in time with his bad wrist as he flung his arms out to catch himself. 

He barely felt his skin tear up, because suddenly there was a screech of tires and Jack’s car was pulling up onto the pavement next to Klaus, bouncing as it flew up the curb.

The door opened and a guy Klaus didn’t recognise dragged his scratched up body into the car roughly, barely getting time to close the door as Jack put his foot down and the car sped off.

“You okay, Klaus?” the guy in the front seat asked, turning round to him.

Klaus was shaking, adrenaline still pumping, stomach churning. He nodded weakly.

“Yeah, yeah, fine,” he said, trying to make his voice sound as if he wasn’t about to fucking pass out.

“Get the coke wrapped up. Throw it out the window when we get to the river. We can come back for it,” another guy instructed, and everyone started grabbing baggies from where they were stuffed.

“Klaus! Fucking help!” Jack caught his watery gaze in the rear view mirror, shouting over the panic in the car as Klaus sat there, still clutching the sleeve of the guy who’d dragged him in the car.

He jumped, a little shocked that Jack had raised his voice at him. But this was a stressful situation. They could go to fucking prison. He had to get a grip.

So Klaus started grabbing baggies, handing them to the guy in the front seat who shoved them in a plastic carrier bag. When everything was in the bag he tied it up and opened the window, launching it out when they got to the river.

The sounds of sirens was deafening when the window was opened, and everyone seemed to jolt into ultra-super-panic mode as Jack sped the car up.

“Empty your pockets. Empty your fucking pockets!” a guy snarled.

Everyone started digging in their pockets, and Klaus pulled out a joint and a baggy of ketamine he’d been given earlier in the night that he’d been wanting to take with Jack before he left for the Academy so he could sleep easier.

Ha. As if he’d ever sleep again after this nightmare.

“What do I do with it?” he had to hold back tears as he looked at the guys around him, his voice shaking almost as much as his hands. Were the sirens getting louder or was he just paranoid? Had the car always been lit up so brightly blue by the flashing lights behind them? 

“Snort it snort it!” Jack snapped, hastily pouring the contents of a pill baggy down his throat, while a guy in the back lit up his pipe, huffing the last of his meth as fast as possible.

Klaus’ nose was screaming at him as he snorted almost half a bag at once, the disgusting chemical taste running down his throat and making him gag, head pounding from the crystals. 

He lit his joint and sucked it hard, coughing hard, his eyes streaming. Another guy grabbed it from him and sucked almost half of it in one go.

But then a police car pulled up right in front of them, and Jack couldn’t stop in time. The car crashed right into the side of the cop car, its armoured exterior crumpling the front of Jack’s car like a tin can.

Klaus’ head slammed against the seat in front of him, jolting his neck painfully. The guy next to him was thrown against him, crushing him against the door. Since when had this guy been so fucking heavy? 

“Give them to Klaus!” a voice hissed.

There were shouts from the police outside, and suddenly someone was grabbing him, stuffing baggies down the front of his skirt, and then the door was yanked open, and Klaus was being hauled out by huge hands gripping his underarms painfully tight.

Klaus had no idea what anyone was saying, everything a messy blur, substances mixing and making his head spin and his vision swim. His head was throbbing, his stomach rolling, every limb shaking uncontrollably and mouth unbelievably dry.

He was slammed over the bonnet of the cop car like a fucking rag doll, a hand smacking his head into the metal when he tried to lift it.

Hands tugged at his clothes and gripped between his thighs, and when he struggled someone shouted right in his ear, spit splattering over his face.

The baggies that had just been shoved into his panties were pushed into his face as if he didn’t know what they were.

Klaus had never worn handcuffs before, even in training. Even when he was kidnapped in missions, the bad guys usually used rope, or their own ties or belts.

Handcuffs Hurt. The officer pulled his arms painfully tight behind his back, the cold metal dug painfully into his skinny wrists. He hit his head when he was bundled into the back of the cop car, and slumped against the door.

He felt as though he was going to buzz right out of his skin, nothing making sense, his soul feeling detached from his body as if he was looking down at himself from above. His vision kept blurring into kaleidoscopes and he kept thinking he’d maybe pissed himself, but he couldn’t move to check.

The lights in the police station were painfully bright and they hurt his eyes.

“Name?” Klaus heard an irritated female voice snap at him, but he could barely stand let alone speak. The cop holding him up scoffed and turned him round. Klaus almost fell over, leaning against him heavily as he felt his arms be tugged out, his wrist tattoo on display like a brand.

“Looks like the Umbrella brats aren’t this city’s fucking saviours after all,” a cop nearby muttered, and then Klaus heard laughter and jeering, but he must’ve passed out, because he woke up in a holding cell full of older men.

Still high as shit, Klaus just remained where he was laid on the bench at the back of the room, frothing at the mouth. He couldn’t see Jack, or anyone he recognised, and all he could think was how his life was fucking over.

And he was right.

Dad came to the station himself. Not inside. He got some officers to drag Klaus out to the Rolls Royce. 

Klaus had made a promise to himself to never cry in front of Reginald, ever since he’d broken his jaw at age twelve and received the scolding of his life. He decided he was too proud for that. He wouldn’t give Reginald the satisfaction.

But Klaus was exhausted, and frightened that he’d fucked everything up for himself, and so fucking glad he wasn’t going to prison, and scared because he was still too high and he felt like his mind was unravelling right before his eyes.

So before Dad had even gotten to the slapping Klaus started sobbing. These were ugly, body wrenching, sickening sobs. His face was streaming and red and swollen, and Dad, for once in Klaus’ entire life, didn’t know what to do with him.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry!” he babbled, hiding his face in his bloody hands, his cheeks stinging from the scratches he’d received in the chase. His knees were ripped with little shards of rock and glass embedded into them, Mom’s stockings ripped and soaked as the blood had run all down his shins. 

Dad was silent. He let Klaus cry, and didn’t say anything when they parked outside the Academy. He gripped Klaus’ ear and tugged him inside, but he called Mom immediately, and asked her to take him to the basement and give him something to help him sleep.

Mom took him to the hospital bed in the basement, and gently cleaned his knees and his hands and his face with disinfectant, which stung. She brushed his hair out of his face, and gently wiped under his eyes with her thumbs. 

She gave him a big drink of water, and took him to bed, and helped him dress his trembling limbs into his pyjamas that she’d put on the radiator earlier, so they were warm and cosy.

When she’d tucked him up in bed she pressed a needle to his arm, and Klaus barely felt it. He couldn’t hear anything except a loud monotone buzzing in his ears, and his skin was throbbing painfully, but at least he didn’t feel as sick anymore, and his vision was only spinning a little. 

Mom pressed a kiss to his forehead. The soft multi-coloured glow from his fairylights was warm and gentle. His bed was softer than it ever had been, and he nuzzled his nose into the duvet, inhaling the smell.

Who would’ve thought the Academy would make him feel so safe?

Mom even reached under his pillow and tucked his raggedy old bunny plush next to him. He’d had it since he was a baby, apparently his birth mother had packed him with it when she’d given him away.

Somehow Klaus slept. He passed out as Mom stroked his hair gently, humming a soft lullaby.

He wasn’t sure how long she stayed there. He assumed it was because she wanted to make sure he didn’t stop breathing during the night, or incase he choked on his own vomit.

Klaus was allowed to sleep late, and he somehow avoided training for that day. He was quiet, subdued. Everyone seemed to know something was up, but they left him alone because he still couldn’t stop shaking, and his mood was lower than it had ever been.

Not that he'd avoided punishment. It just took Dad a day or two to really figure out what he was going to inflict upon his son.

He caned Klaus into fucking oblivion, and no one seemed to ask why he disappeared for two weeks, and came back dirty and trembling, flinching at everything, deep trenches gouged into his arms. 

Every night for a whole week since he'd been released from the mausoleum he'd sat by his open window with a cigarette, watching the road with wet eyes. He'd gotten dressed, just so he was ready. Bag packed. When his friends came to pick him up, he wasn't coming back.

But Jack didn't show up. Klaus never saw any of them again.

It would take almost a year for Klaus to find new friends. He made sure not to make the mistake of returning to the Academy after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t know how to end this one omg


End file.
